


A Little More Fun Like This

by soakyourskin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Daddy Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Niall-centric, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soakyourskin/pseuds/soakyourskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe if he ignores it long enough it'll go away, yeah? It's not too late to pretend like this isn't happening to him. It's not like anyone would know, really. Just him. And—well, maybe the hard-on he's sporting underneath his joggers</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little More Fun Like This

Maybe if he ignores it long enough it'll go away, yeah? It's not too late to pretend like this isn't happening to him. It's not like anyone would know, really. Just him. And—well, maybe the hard-on he's sporting underneath his joggers.

He curses under his breath when he hears it. The unmistakable sound of Harry moaning, coming from the other side of the wall, just behind his headboard. "Yeah, Lou. Just like—ahh, fuck, so good, babe,"

Niall turns on over to his front and presses his face to the pillow, groaning into the cool fabric and wishing he were anywhere else but here in this hotel room, sandwiched between Harry and Louis', and Liam and Zayn's.

As if on cue, the sound of palm striking skin travels from behind the wall, across the room, to where Niall is. He feels himself get impossibly harder at the rush of images flooding his mind, and his face heats up when he realizes he'd been grinding his hips down on the bed at the sounds filtering through his walls.

"You like that, baby?" he hears, and it's Liam's voice, rough and low and— _jesus_ , he sounds obscene, and he doesn't mean to think it, but Niall just wants—

"D-daddy, harder," and—well, apparently Zayn's taken the daddy direction bit a little too literally, and Niall's never going to be able to call Liam that now without remembering this, and maybe wondering what it would be like to say it in the same way Zayn's just done.

A second later and he hears another smack, followed by Zayn sobbing out _please—fuck, h-harder_ , _please_ , and—he should feel bad about this. He should feel incredibly guilty because he's still grinding down, and he's rock hard listening to his best mates fuck, but, jesus—if this isn't the hottest thing he's ever done.

It comes from both sides this time, drowning his senses out with the panting, the keening, the moaning, and he swears under his breath as he turns on his back. "Fuck it," he mutters as he pushes his joggers down his legs, kicking them off with his feet, and flinging them to the side.

He deserves to gain something from all of this fucking going on, he reasons, as he places his hand on his chest, and teasingly, torturously slowly drags it all the way down to where he's leaking. He grazes his forefinger against the head, nail pressing into the slit, and he hisses at the sensitivity even as he bucks up into it. He trails his finger down the shaft, wet with pre come, and takes his cock in hand, gripping himself loosely.

He's suffered countless nights on the bus trying to fall asleep and failing when the smell of sex filled the whole back area, and the muffled sounds of the lads getting off, the creaking of the bunks, echoed in the dark, so he deserves this, _definitely,_ he does.

It was easier back then anyway, ignoring the weird feeling at the pit of his stomach every time he caught a glimpse of them, through half-pulled curtains, bare and sweaty, or heard them, grunting and moaning for more, when he could go out and get a good shag. But it's been ages since the last time, and he's so hard up that he can't think of any good reason to stop now.

He grips himself just a little bit tighter when he drags his hand down, fingers reaching further to fondle his balls as the sounds start getting louder, and it's almost as if they know what he's doing, almost as if they can sense him listening in on them, like they're trying to help him get off, and he stifles a moan at the thought.

A high keen breaks through the haze setting in his head, and it's Harry, sounding breathless, and Louis' ragged voice after— _faster, Harry. That's it, baby, take it—_ and he can imagine it so vividly in his head now, Louis spread lazily out on the bed, back to the headboard with Harry riding him, harder and faster like Louis wants, so desperate for cock that he grinds down all the more whenever Louis fucks up into him.

Niall thrusts up, hips leaving the bed, cock sliding through the loose hold of his hand as he's thinking about it, and suddenly it's him, in Louis' position, right below Harry's sweaty body, hands on his hips, grip so tight that he can feel the bruises he's leaving behind. He lets out a moan when he thinks about how much tighter Harry would be around him, how much hotter, and slicker, and he notices a little too late how loud he's being.

He's a second away from panicking because it's gotten so quiet, but—

"Hear that, babe?" he hears Louis say after a pause too long, louder than necessary, and if Niall were even a little bit more coherent he might've noticed, might've wondered if he's meant to hear it all. His voice drops to a whisper all of a sudden, and even through the paper-thin walls, it's impossible for Niall to understand.

It's murmurs now, filtering through to his room, a little more quiet from their side even as Liam and Zayn are loud on the other. His hand's slowed down, heartbeat thundering a little less in his chest, and he thinks that they've finally realized how loud they've been, but—

"Please," he hears, the sound of Harry's unabashed moans now mixing with the hushed words Niall can still hear, coming from Louis, and he starts to wonder what it is, what Louis' saying to him that's making him react this way, voice frantic, high keens filling the air, and he doesn't mean to but the images starts flooding his mind.

It's him now, riding Louis, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other, filthy even in his head. He starts to jerk himself faster at the thought of it—thumb stroking at the tip, spreading the pre come still leaking there—what it would be like, what sounds Louis could rip from his lungs with just the words he'd whisper in his ears, against his skin.

The slick sounds his hand's making as it glides down his cock fill the room, and he knows, he just knows that they can hear it, hear him pulling himself off to the sound of them fucking. He can't help but imagine that that's what Louis' telling Harry, that that's what's causing Harry to moan the way he is, obscene and loud—way too loud.

_Hear that, baby? Think our Nialler c'n hear you being a little too loud. Bet he'd love to see you like this, huh? Riding my cock like you're gagging for it. And you are, aren't you? Y're so fucking eager for it, babe. Bet you'd like that._

He doesn't know if that's what does it, if it's the words and scenarios that's he's created in his head, if it's the long drawn-out moan that Harry lets out, or if it's the low grunts Louis can't seem to hold in, but before he can slow down enough to prolong it like he always does he's coming, hard and impossibly long, thick, white ropes of come shooting out of his pulsing slit, covering his stomach in warmth as he continues to fuck up into his hand.

"Fuck," he breathes out slowly, vowels dragging in the haze. He's oversensitive now—hand still wrapped around his cock, slowly but firmly stroking, keeping himself hard—but he's used to the little bit of pain that comes with when he keeps on going. He likes it even, likes the tingling just underneath his skin that makes him want to pull away, and ask for more at the same time. He knows which one wins out every time.

Loosening his grip, he pulls his hand away, wet fingers trailing his too sensitive skin, nails catching on the inside of his thighs. He doesn't do this too often, never really been good at it like some of the other people he's slept with, but he wants it now, wants to feel full with something, anything.

Louis and Harry have gone quiet, no sounds coming through the wall at all, and Niall knows that they're back in that secret place they go to after sex. Niall's heard them a few times, from sharing bunks, and it's so sweet the way they talk to each other after that he never really pays too much attention. It's a bit too much, too intimate, the way that fucking has never really been, for them.

He moves away this time around as well, turning over, knees tucked up under him, just in time to hear a slam on the wall behind him. He'd almost forgotten about them, Zayn and Liam, so caught up in whatever Harry and Louis were doing, and to be honest he doesn't know how he could have.

It's one thing, hearing Harry and Louis, teasing and loud, and always so obvious with what they're doing, but Liam and Zayn are a whole other thing entirely. They're just—

"Liam, please—"

Obscene.

"Li, d-daddy—fuck," he hears before a hissed out _yes, fuck—_ and then it's constant thuds against the wall, echoing into his room, a stream of whimpers and keens that he's never heard come out of Zayn's mouth before. It makes him groan out quietly now, hearing it.

Niall closes his eyes as he brings a hand up to his chest, fingers closing around a nipple, his other hand stroking up the insides of his thighs, past his balls, all the way up to where he's tight and aching. He presses a finger against himself, shivering at the unfamiliar feeling, and pushing just a bit too hard when he hears Liam growl out "Louder, baby. Let me hear you,"

He hisses out in pain when his finger pushes in dry, even as he bears down on it. Pulling out, he stretches his arm, reaches for the bedside table, and grabs the half-empty bottle of lube he always keeps there. He smears a dollop on his fingers before throwing it aside. He brings his hand back behind him and presses a slick finger against his taint.

It's as he pushes in that a string of _please_ 'sand _fuck_ 's and _harder_ 's echo into his room. The distinct sound of body hitting wall gets unbelievably louder as Zayn does, and Niall wants nothing more than to be there where they are, inside their room, watching Liam fuck up into Zayn as he's left with marks on his back.

He whimpers quietly when he pushes a second finger in along with the first, thrusting shallowly but curved upward until—"ahh, _fuck_ —" he keens high in his throat when he presses against the bundle of nerves with the tips of his fingers. Zayn's wail pierces through his own and the image that pops up into his head makes hip push back against where he's fingering himself open.

It's Zayn, legs wrapped tightly around Liam's waist, hands in his hair, pulling at the ends as Liam thrusts up into him. And it's Niall, kissing up the expanse of his neck, sucking at the sensitive underside of his jaw line before moving up to his mouth.

He can almost feel Zayn's skin under his fingertips as he imagines trailing his hand down his chest, reaching his cock and gripping it, even as Zayn begs off _too much, it's too much_ , but bucking up into his hold anyway. He can almost feel how hard Zayn is, throbbing under the slick glide of his hands, and he wants it. Wants to feel Zayn's cock pulse as he pulls him off, wants to bring his hands up to his lips and taste him after he's made him come. He wants it.

A grunt escapes his lips at the thought of _what if,_ and as he pushes a third finger in, it's Liam suddenly—Liam's fingers, long and thick, pushing into him, stretching him wide "for my cock, yeah?" and he can almost hear it against his ear, almost feel the warm breath on his neck as Liam puffs out hot air where he's nipping at the skin.

Niall wants it.

He wants to know what it'd be like to be held down by Liam, hand firm against the small of his back and at the top of his spine, thumb stroking softly at the skin there, even as he drives his cock forward brutally and deep, so deep, into Niall that he can feel the full length of it throbbing in him. He wants to hear all of the filthy things Liam would whisper to get him off.

_So tight around my cock, darling. So hot, just like a cunt. D'you like that? Like being my good girl, Nialler?_

He groans low at the thought, and the wet sound of his fingers make him moan even louder, just as Zayn does, and he shudders as he feels the heat starting to spread under his skin. He hears another moan, breaking off this time and he knows that Zayn's close as well.

He pushes back against his fingers as another sound escapes him, and he wonders what it would be like to have something in his mouth to keep him quiet. He wonders what it would feel like to be filled from both sides, Liam driving into him from behind, and Zayn fucking into his mouth with a hand behind his head to keep him steady. He wonders if they'd allow him to get off, or if he'd need to feel Liam shoot thick come inside of him, and taste Zayn's as he fucks his throat raw. He wonders if they'd let him come then, or if they'd just take each other's place and use him until they've both come dry.

It's with that thought that he bites into the skin of his forearm and comes untouched, cock pulsing and hole tightening around his fingers. His throat feels thick and used with the shouts he won't let out, his body exhausted and oversensitive with all that he's done. He almost misses the whine that Zayn lets out, and the grunted out _fuck—baby, fuck,_ from Liam that makes his cock twitch painfully in an attempt to get hard.

"Shit," he mutters as his arm and knees give out, fingers pulling out of him with a squelch, and he winces at the feeling as his body collapses, covering the wet spot as he collapses. He should feel gross with the sweat and come drying on his body, he ought to move away and take a shower, but he's too fucked out to care about anything except the two orgasms he's just had and everything that got him there.

He falls asleep almost as soon as he tucks the pillow underneath his head, and he's too tired to reach for the duvet, too tired to hear the muffled laughter coming from both sides of the wall, too tired to hear Louis ask out loud, "D'you think he enjoyed that, then?"

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be up in a few days. Thanks for reading xx


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